


a thousand times (we tempted fate)

by gacrux



Category: The Craft (1996)
Genre: F/F, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gacrux/pseuds/gacrux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah doesn't even have to read it to know who it is. There was only ever one person it was going to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a thousand times (we tempted fate)

Sarah wakes up one morning with a name circling around her ring finger. She doesn't even have to look to know who it is; there was only ever one person it was going to be. Maybe it was Manon who told her, maybe she always just kind of _knew_. 

 

She holds her hands up to the ceiling, palms outstretched like she's reaching, pleading, praying for something.

 

_Nancy_ is scrawled like a scar over the skin where a wedding ring might fit. She knows if she flips over her hand over, _Downs_ will unite the words like a chain. She hums like it's a surprise, tells Manon it's a fucked up world, and gets dressed. She wears a skirt that brushes her knees and a blouse that was a gift from her boss – the owner of the unnamed little pagan shop downtown. A nice lady, if a little eccentric.

 

The blouse feels like safety and magic. The name on her finger feels like danger and power. She wears a necklace with a rose quartz pendant and leaves her tiny apartment unlocked. Anybody wandering in will only see an abandoned room anyway. If they can't see it, they can't steal it.

 

She follows her instincts. That's the only way to find Nancy these days; through wit and heart and a little bit of knowledge. Knowing her as a teenager helped. Nancy hasn't changed much, really. She still embraces the darker edge of fashion, wears lipstick so red it makes her face look white and her lips bloody. Her hair is still short, her eyes are still the most bewitching thing about her, and her smile is sharper than the switchblade she carries in her bra.

 

Sarah still knows her best; Nancy still knows she's darker than she lets on to the world. It's an even trade for them. It's always been an even trade.

 

When Sarah finds her on the beach, it's almost nighttime. This summer has been sweltering, but tonight it feels even hotter than usual. She collects herself, ready for the sting of cold words or a glare so sharp it could cut through steel, but there's nothing. Yet. Sometimes there's a delay in her reactions, like she's got to really digest what's happening. Sarah gets it. This whole 'soulmates in life and death' thing is a lot to swallow. She's barely even registered the news herself.

 

Sarah goes and sits next to Nancy, feels the sand stick to her legs and feet. She tosses her shoes aside and digs her toes into the sand. It's damp and cool, even though the air is hot. Sarah leans her head back to stare at the sky; she sees Nancy watching her, eyes narrowed to slits, like she's not sure what to make of it all.

 

“It's fucked, right.” Sarah comments.

 

Nancy looks away then, scoffing. “It makes sense.”

 

“You're so contradictory. If I said we were the perfect match you'd tell me I was an insane person.” Sarah retorts dryly.

 

Nancy doesn't really laugh, but she's sneering. Her teeth are perfectly white in the light of the rising moon. She's beautiful now, like always. That wild, angry, devil-may-care beautiful Sarah's only ever found attractive in Nancy Downs.

 

“What does Manon think about it?” Nancy asks lightly. Sarah knows that in reality she cares more about Manon's opinion than what her own mother thinks. She wonders how Ms. Downs is doing – then she decides she doesn't want to know. People like her expire faster than most.

 

“Manon doesn't give a shit.” Is what she says.

 

Nancy makes this low noise in her throat, something like a growl. She takes Sarah by the shirt collar and draws her in close, barely breathes when they're near enough to touch. It's all kind of pretense these days because they both know Nancy can't hurt her, not really. Now it's different though. Electricity sparks between them for completely different reasons, and it's sharp, heady in ways they've never felt. Bonnie and Rochel could probably give them a lesson or two in how to handle new soulbound urges, but they're both too proud to go to their estranged friends. Sarah because she _knows_ Nancy, knows her best, always has and always will; Nancy because she doesn't need help with anything, she'll figure it out herself. Stupidly stubborn, and set in their ways. It's always been that way.

 

But Nancy reels back like she's been shocked and Sarah stares out at the ocean, watches the waves crash, knows that this is it. She's never going to be able to leave Nancy's side if _this_ is the kind of feeling that being with her evokes.

 

“That's not fair.” Nancy whispers, breathless.

 

“Life's not fair.” Sarah replies, turning fully to Nancy and meeting her eyes. Just this much interaction is intense. Just this much. Sarah wonders if this is normal, if this is right, or if Sarah's magic and Nancy's sheer personality is heightening the whole feeling.

 

She doesn't know. She's never been in this situation before, has no knowledge of what it's supposed to be like.

 

Nancy grabs hold of her wrist and the name burns against her skin. Sarah stops breathing, thinks her heart might've stopped too, but realizes she can feel Nancy. The confusion, the fear, the _need_ and desire. The longing. Her heartbeat is rhythmic and soothing; Sarah leans in and rests her head on Nancy's shoulder, just feeling. Nancy's one hand sears her wrist, and the other is balled up in Sarah's skirt. She's tense, rigid, won't let go of some feeling she has. Sarah sighs, pulls her in closer and closer until they're practically on top of each other. Nancy relents in slow increments, scared but so proud, so stubborn.

 

The feeling is euphoric. It burns and hurts and makes Sarah feel strangely invincible, and she's not sure how she's lived this long without it. Nancy whispers something unintelligible, squeezes Sarah's hand until her fingers go numb, turns and kisses Sarah like it's the only thing she's ever wanted to do. It's _incredible._ Sarah smiles into Nancy's lips at the same time Nancy hisses at her, bites her lower lip until she bleeds. It's so very Nancy that Sarah doesn't even care; she just uses her free hand to grip hard at Nancy's hair.

 

They claw and pull and bite at each other, not quite sure how to adjust to the new sensations. Being close is sometimes enough, but moments later it's not and they have to draw blood to put themselves back into balance. Sarah doesn't like that so much, doesn't find the sight or feel of blood as appealing as Nancy does – and yes she's forced to, a little bit. Nancy's thrill at seeing her blood is thrust onto Sarah by the bond, makes her feel cold and hot and _Nancy._

 

But it's still not what she wants.

 

“Nancy, stop.” She says, and the words alone still her for a moment. Nancy's eyes are gleaming in the dark, smouldering, and Sarah is sure she could walk anyone into bed with her just by looking at them.

 

Nancy reaches up into her shirt, brings out the very same switchblade Sarah was thinking of earlier. She presses the metal handle to Sarah's cheek and it's cold, dead, lifeless. The bond pulls tight between them as Nancy leans close, straddles her, presses every square inch of her body to Sarah. She even presses their foreheads together and smiles widely, vacantly, and Sarah thinks she should be afraid.

 

But she's not, because she knows Nancy.

  
“Stop.” She says again, quiet, against Nancy's red lips.

 

A spike of ferocity and Nancy's slamming her back against the sand in a way that feels almost telekinetic, almost like she has her magic back – but that can't be. She prowls over Sarah and flips open the switchblade, a loud click over the sound of swelling waves. Nancy's free hand closes over her ribs, squeezing tight like she wants to reach through her skin to her heart.

 

Sarah is still not afraid.

 

“Nancy.” She tries again. She'll get through to her, she can feel it happening already. The bond is a two-way street and Nancy is just as affected by it as Sarah is. “Hey. I don't want you to hurt me. Not like that.” She explains, calm and composed even though she feels like embers burning hotter than a kiln. It's almost too intense.

 

“Why should I care?” Nancy asks, unfeeling. “You hurt me and you didn't care.”

 

“You were going to kill me.” Sarah replies, eyebrows quirked. “I did what I had to.”

 

“Fuck you.” Nancy seethes, but her eyes have lost the brainsick edge. Sarah nods and shuffles back a little to get out from under Nancy's hips. Nancy watches, confused and frustrated, and then Sarah beckons her forward again. She goes cautiously, putting on a show of being mistrustful and annoyed even though Sarah can _feel_ her eagerness. She can feel it because it's hers too; neither of them can refuse this. A long time ago Nancy might have called it a gift.

 

“You can have me however you want, Nancy, but you're not allowed to hurt me.” She tells her, watching Nancy's eyes turn from suspicious to disbelieving. Sarah spreads her legs to make room for her there, trying not to let on how terrifying it is. Sarah's never done anything like this before, this makes her _vulnerable –_ and Nancy knows it. She sees it, feels it. Sarah lets herself be searched through for a hint of dishonesty, hands clenched.

 

_I'm yours_.

 

The thought echoes back and forth between them and Sarah sighs impatiently. She pulls Nancy closer, closes her legs around Nancy's waist and _wants_.

 

Nancy kisses her like she wants to drink her up, wants to tilt her back and empty her. Sarah can only hold on with her hands and her heart and feel Nancy for all that she is; selfish and angry and passionate, and all other human things. She's so much, almost too much. But Sarah's always been good at dealing with too much.

 

“I want you to say it.” Nancy says when she pulls back an inch, arms bracketing Sarah's head. She's looking down at her seriously, pupils blown wide and searching. Sarah already knows what she wants, and it makes her laugh a little. “Say it.” Nancy repeats, lips all the redder from the kissing.

 

“You already know.” Sarah replies, teasing.

 

“Yeah, I do. But I want the universe to know too.” What Sarah hears is, _I want Manon to know._ So she raises her hands to follow the curve of Nancy's jaw to her neck, resting them there peacefully. She feels at home and it scares her as much as it calms her, as much as she's always known this was coming.

 

“I'm yours. I've only ever been yours.” She whispers, more honest than she expected to be. It's true though. She is Nancy's and vice versa. It seems like something she's always known, looking back. Something that was always meant to be. Destiny is a strange thing. She looks at Nancy, eyes shuttered and thoughtful. “And you're mine, Nancy Downs.” She adds quietly, watching Nancy watch her. Her eyes go unreadable but her mind is still an open book, and Sarah reads it easily.

 

“ _Mine_.” Nancy echoes, lips quirking back in a content smile. Sarah feels warm at the sight of it, heart pinched and heavy.

 

This is it, she thinks, wrapping a hand around Nancy's, their marked fingers brushing together. They'll never be alone again.

 

(And they won't.)


End file.
